


Sailor's Delight

by orphan_account



Series: #FairGameWeek2020 [2]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Fair Game Week (RWBY), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:16:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23189847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "Any plans for your day off?" asked Qrow, glancing at Clover over the fan of cards he held in one hand.Clover met his gaze for just a moment before looking away again, a rosy hue rising to his cheeks. "I was kind of hoping we could spend it together, actually," he admitted."What, got some extra training to do or something?""No, Qrow, I..." Clover trailed off with a nervous chuckle. "I mean like a date."A pause. And then, "Oh."
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Series: #FairGameWeek2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1666546
Comments: 15
Kudos: 83





	Sailor's Delight

**Author's Note:**

> #FairGameWeek2020 - Day 2: Date
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this one, so I hope you enjoy!

This had been far too easy so far. It was only natural for something to go wrong.

At least, that’s what Clover told himself as he paced back and forth in front of his bathroom mirror. It was still foggy around the edges, as he’d only gotten out of the shower a few minutes beforehand. A towel hung loosely from Clover’s hips, and his damp hair clung to his forehead. He slicked it back with one hand as he let out a long, deep sigh and looked at himself in the mirror for what felt like the thirtieth time.

He wanted to attribute the lingering pink that dusted his cheekbones to the hot steam from his shower. He really did. But, deep down, he knew better.

In roughly an hour, he was supposed to go on a date.

With _Qrow Branwen_.

Just thinking about it made the faint red along his cheeks blossom back into a deep, rich crimson that spread all the way from his collarbone to the tips of his ears. Clover slapped his hands over his face with a frustrated groan, rubbing it furiously, like doing so would be enough to get rid of the excessive color. What was he, a lovestruck teenager?

…Needless to say, it wasn’t just any date. No, as far as Clover was concerned, it had to be _perfect_.

And that started with him, with his outfit, with his hair, and he couldn’t seem to make a single, final decision about _any_ of it. Nerves coiled in his stomach like a lead ball, the feeling occasionally striking out through his limbs in a way that made his movements quick and jittery.

He’d have to get a handle on _that_ , above all else, before the hour was up. They said confidence was key.

(Who were “they?” Don’t ask Clover. He didn’t know.)

It hadn’t been a problem until now. He’d managed to keep it together in front of Qrow for weeks. Clover had sent the other man countless dazzling smiles and daring winks, constantly toeing the line between suave but acceptable flirting and blatantly inappropriate workplace interactions, and he’d been fine the entire time. _Arrogant_ , even.

But now that Qrow had agreed to go on a date with him—and he’d agreed so _quickly_ , too—Clover swore his heart might beat right out of his chest. Maybe it shouldn’t have surprised him so much, given that Qrow had been returning his advances for almost as long as they’d started, and had even initiated some suggestive exchanges of his own. But even so, the moment he’d agreed to go on a real, proper date with Clover, the latter’s brain had all but short-circuited on the spot.

Not his smoothest encounter to date, he would admit. Qrow had seemed entertained enough, though, chuckling at Clover’s stunned, stammered responses. So, he had that going for him, at least. That said, the last thing he wanted was for that to happen again tonight.

Clover dragged his hands down his face once more for good measure, letting out a final sigh before he let his arms fall back to his sides. _Alright, Ebi_ , he thought, glaring into the mirror with a renewed sense of determination. _Pull it together_.

An hour later, when Clover did a final pass through the bathroom to catch one more glimpse of his reflection, he was much more pleased with what he found. His hair was neatly coiffed with more care and precision than he’d given it in months, and he was dressed in a simple but sleek outfit consisting of dark slacks and a somewhat muted emerald green button-up. He’d considered donning a vest instead, but ultimately Clover had settled on this shirt, though he did roll the sleeves up as far as he could manage.

(Elm did always say that his arms were one of his best assets.)

With one more deep breath, Clover grinned at his reflection and left his quarters to head towards the hangar he and Qrow had agreed to meet at.

* * *

Clover had been so sure that arriving fifteen minutes early would make him the first one there—Qrow never showed up to meetings or morning briefings on time, after all—so he was a bit floored to find that Qrow was actually the one waiting on _him_.

Was he as excited as Clover, then? The thought sent a giddy rush straight to Clover’s head, and a broad smile threatened to take over the entire lower half of his face. He bit down on his lip slightly, both to try to keep his enthusiasm in check, but also because _damn_ , Qrow.

Qrow, leaning against a far wall, hadn’t noticed him yet, so Clover took an extra moment to appreciate his date’s appearance. His normal, somewhat tattered red cloak had been swapped out for one free of tears. It was still a similar crimson color, but embroidered with thin, swirling black lines that grew in density closer to the bottom of the cape, until they reached a point that was almost lacelike in design. He wore a sleek, dark gray jacket with coattails rivaling the cloak itself, and a silver-white shirt with the top three buttons undone.

Qrow flicked idly through his scroll with one thumb, while his other hand was in the pocket of his dark, slim slacks. His hair had been slicked back, giving Clover a complete, perfect view of his beautiful face, all sharp edges except for his crimson eyes, which suddenly looked so soft by comparison—Oh, he’d noticed Clover. Was that why? Did seeing Clover make his eyes soften like that? …Brothers help him, Clover hadn’t even said hello, and he already felt weak at the knees.

_Confidence_ , the voice in his head reminded him. _Be confident!_

Clover lifted his hand in greeting as he closed the distance between himself and Qrow, offering the latter a warm smile. “You look great,” he said, heat tickling his collarbone

Qrow flicked an appreciative gaze up and down Clover’s form, sliding his scroll into his pocket. “Not so bad yourself,” he replied, a lazy grin tugging at his lips.

“You ready?” Clover asked, gesturing towards a small airship in the corner of the hangar.

“Been waiting on _you_ , lucky charm.” Qrow pushed off from the wall. “Gotta say, though, wasn’t expecting the hangar to be your destination of choice.” He tilted his head to one side, curiosity glinting in his eyes. “No fancy, five-star Atlesian dinner planned?”

“Please.” Clover rolled his eyes fondly. “I know you better than that.”

His words seemed to take Qrow somewhat off-guard, but after a moment, the latter gave Clover a small, pleased smile. “Oh yeah? You better be sweeping me off my damn feet, then.”

“Is that a challenge?”

Clover didn’t wait for a response before placing one hand against Qrow’s back and dipping down to slot his other against the back of his date’s knees, proceeding to quite literally sweep the man off his feet. His actions were met with an indignant squawk, and Qrow quickly pressed the back of his hand over his mouth, though whether he did so to pretend he’d made no such noise or to conceal his sudden and still-growing blush remained a mystery to Clover.

For a moment, he was afraid that he’d gone too far and Qrow would be upset, but after a brief pause, Qrow let out a long exhale and dropped his hand away from his face.

“Alright, fair play,” Qrow managed to get out, though his voice was an octave higher than before.

“I am, if nothing else, a man of my word.” Clover grinned down at him, all too aware that his own face was probably just as much on fire as Qrow’s. “Careful what you wish for, hm?”

“Smartass. Go on, then,” Qrow said, draping an arm over Clover’s shoulder. As Clover began walking towards the airship, he added, “You’re setting a pretty high bar for yourself, y’know.”

“Good thing I’ve always been at the top of my class, huh? Meeting expectations shouldn’t be a problem.”

* * *

To say he was overwhelmed was an understatement. Ever since he first spotted Qrow in the hangar, Clover felt like he’d been operating on autopilot, like he’d shoved the most suave version of himself to the forefront of his mind while the rest of his very being cowered and panicked in the deep recesses of his conscious.

He took Qrow to his favorite diner in Mantle, a quiet, hole-in-the-wall sort of place where every worker knew him by name—along with the fact that he generally came alone. If Qrow noticed the knowing looks the employees kept tossing each other, or the unusual smirk their waitress wore when she took their orders, he didn’t comment on it.

Instead, what he said was, “You come here a lot, I take it?”

“Just about any time I have a reason to come down to Mantle, yeah,” Clover replied. He pressed the side of his fork into the fish he’d ordered, cutting it neatly before poking it with the utensil and lifting it towards his mouth. “I’ve made some good friends here, and I haven’t found better food in all of Atlas.”

“All of Atlas?” Qrow echoed, raising his eyebrows like he didn’t quite believe him. “Really? You’re telling me they can’t get the best ingredients around? _Nobody_ up there can make anything decent?”

“The best ingredients don’t mean much if you don’t know what to do with them,” said Clover. “Decent, I guess they can handle, but definitely not anything better than this. Plus, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the serving sizes up there?” He gestured upwards with his fork and shook his head. “You get maybe four bites out of an entrée. Need a little more than that.”

Qrow snorted and glanced at Clover’s broad arms. He leaned forward, cupping his chin in his palm. “Yeah, I bet you do.”

Clover flushed, and had to focus very hard on swallowing to ensure he didn’t choke on the last bite he’d taken.

* * *

The next time their waitress dropped by, they’d both finished their plates. “Can I get you guys any dessert tonight?” She looked at Clover. “Your usual, maybe?”

“Not tonight, I think,” said Clover, smiling. “We’ve got some other plans.”

“Oh? Gonna get yours later, huh, Clover?” she asked, tapping her pen against her chin with a grin and a pointed, suggestive glance towards Qrow.

…Ugh, and he’d finally been feeling like his face was getting back to a normal temperature. So much for that.

“ _Lynae_ ,” Clover hissed, scrambling to his feet and waving his hand at her to shoo her away from their booth.

She brushed his hand aside with a laugh and a wink, waved at Qrow, and finally retreated towards the kitchen, much to Clover’s relief.

With a nervous chuckle, he rubbed the back of his head and looked back at Qrow. “Don’t mind her,” he said. “She can be that way some—”

He broke off, eyebrows shooting towards his hairline as Qrow stood, reached over, and took his hand in his own.

“I’m not that worried about it,” Qrow said, amusement glinting in his eyes.

For a moment, Clover couldn’t believe that Qrow seemed to be taking _everything_ so in stride throughout the night so far, but then he noticed that the tips of his ears were definitely a bit red, too. That was reassuring. Clover wouldn’t know what to do with himself if Qrow suddenly became immune to getting flustered, not when Clover himself felt like he was losing his damn mind after every other thing Qrow said to him.

Qrow gently tugged Clover out of the booth and led him towards the door of the diner, only releasing Clover’s hand once they’d left the building. Clover couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness at the sudden absence of contact—something about it had just felt _right_.

Still, the feeling of loss was short-lived, and ten minutes later found the pair walking along the outskirts of Mantle, each now nursing a cup of hot chocolate.

“Good call,” Qrow sighed, words wrapped in contentment.

Clover chuckled. “I thought about taking you to my favorite ice cream place, but…” He watched as Qrow kept his cup nestled close to his face, like he was enjoying the warmth it gave off. “…then I remembered that you’re probably not used to the cold here.”

Qrow glanced sideways at him, and lowered the cup away from his face, cheeks tinged pink. “Ah, yeah,” he agreed. “Guess you’ll have to show me in the summer.”

“Will you be here that long?” Clover asked, genuine curiosity slipping into his tone.

Qrow hummed thoughtfully. “Probably? I don’t know.” He shrugged. “No need to worry about it tonight, though.”

Hope fluttered in Clover’s chest—both at the thought of Qrow staying in Atlas for the next few months, as well as the idea of taking him out somewhere a second time. Of course, nothing was guaranteed, but he was probably right. The chances of solving all of their problems before summer seemed improbable at best and was much more likely going to be flat-out impossible.

Qrow was _definitely_ right about tonight not being the time for those thoughts, though. Work was exhausting. Worrying about the fate of the world was exhausting. But Qrow? Qrow was _electrifying_. Spending time with Qrow, especially one-on-one like this and away from the responsibilities looming over them both (in some ways, literally), was exhilarating and _fun_ and it breathed a new sense of life into Clover’s existence.

He’d gotten used to a certain degree of monotony in his life before Qrow had arrived in Atlas. Clover held a lot of admiration for his fellow Ace-Ops, and he wanted to consider them friends, but some of them (namely Harriet) had varying ideas of what their teammates truly meant to them. As a result, they didn’t hang out much outside of work, and Clover would be lying if he said he never felt lonely. Even though their missions were full of banter, Clover couldn’t seem to get the rest of his team to get past the fact that he was their leader. There was always a lingering divide between them, like they were afraid to push against him too hard.

That was one of the reasons he loved working with Qrow so much. Qrow shattered his sense of routine, laughed in the face of rankings, and generally refused most expectations of obedience. He challenged Clover in ways none of the other Ace-Ops would ever dream of, and honestly, Clover reveled in it. Qrow wasn’t afraid to speak his mind, and yet he was still so humble when it came to his own skills and impact. He was deceptively strong, quick as a whip, with the perfect dry humor to match, and oh _-so_ handsome to boot. Really, what wasn’t there to like?

…He was getting sidetracked.

Clover cleared his throat and settled on saying, “You’re right. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

Then he glanced towards the sky—streaks of pink and orange were beginning to appear to the west. “We need to pick up the pace, anyway,” he continued, partially to change the subject. “There’s one more thing I’d like to see before we head back up to Atlas.”

* * *

“You sure we couldn’t see this from Atlas?” Qrow asked, looking up at the hill before them.

Clover took his hand and led him to the base of the hill, where a rocky path upwards had been carved into the side. “I mean, we _could_ have,” he said, “but I think the landscape is much nicer down here.”

Atlas was a technological marvel for sure. To some, the tall, sleek buildings were beautiful. But Clover was more of a nature fan, that was all. He liked being close to the ground sometimes, with the white tundra all around them, and the outline of distant mountains on the horizon behind them.

Clover started up the winding path first, choosing his steps carefully and with one hand pressed against the hill. Qrow fell in behind him, and slowly, the pair ascended the cliffside.

They were a little over halfway to the top when Qrow spoke again. “Doesn’t seem like the safest thing ever. No railings?”

Clover glanced back at him. “Scared you’ll fall?”

“I’m not worried about _me_ ,” Qrow replied. “Heights aren’t exactly what I’d call a problem for—”

As he spoke, the toe of his shoe caught on a jagged section of the path, and he started to stumble forward. Clover’s hands shot out, one going to Qrow’s torso and the other gripping his upper arm. They stared at each other for a moment, and then Clover grinned.

“You were saying?”

Qrow scoffed, a faint, knowing smirk pulling at his lips. “Trust me, lucky charm, I would’ve been _just_ _fine_.”

“Probably ‘cause you knew I’d catch you,” Clover said, oblivious. “ _Again_. You’re really making a habit of falling into my arms, aren’t you?”

He laughed at the dirty look Qrow sent him. A beat passed, and Qrow’s face relaxed with a fond eyeroll.

“I guess there’re worse places to fall,” he murmured, nudging Clover’s side to get him to keep climbing.

* * *

When they finally reached the top of the hill, Qrow changed his tune almost immediately. “Holy shit.”

Clover laughed again at his response, and together they walked over to the far edge of the hill, which dropped off into a true cliff.

In front of them, the snow stretched on endlessly, hardly a bump or rock marring its surface all the way to the horizon. The sun had crept lower in the sky during their climb, and the streaks of pink through the clouds had deepened into a rich red.

But the snow itself was really the selling point, and why Clover had insisted they stay in Mantle. They could’ve viewed a simple sunset from anywhere, but this spot in particular was unparalleled.

The snowscape’s smooth, white surface proved to be the perfect canvas for the sunset. It reflected the colors brilliantly, making it almost impossible to tell where the sky ended and where the tundra began. Bright oranges, crimson, peach—it all blended together in one of nature’s finest displays.

It was hard to believe this was a daily occurrence. It was a truly beautiful sight, and to Clover, one of the most breathtaking privileges of living so far north.

Clover glanced to his left to gauge Qrow’s reaction… and promptly threw out every previous conception he had about the word “breathtaking.” The sunset couldn’t match the sight of the man next to him, a sight that truly made Clover forget how to breathe.

He changed his mind. The sunset was not beautiful. It was barely pretty. Even _decent_ was almost too generous of a word to use.

Why?

Well, because Qrow Branwen was simply, utterly, _incomparably_ gorgeous.

The worry lines had eased from his face, and he wore something _dangerously_ close to a genuine smile as he gazed at the horizon. As the evening had gone on, his slicked back hair had fallen out of its style, and its increasingly messy state was only accentuated as a light breeze ruffled his dark locks. Not to mention, his eyes—

Brothers above, his _eyes_.

As if they weren’t stunning enough to begin with, the crimson glow from the sunset seemed to light a fire in them like Clover had never seen. Qrow’s entire face seemed softer, brighter—like even he wasn’t immune to the youthful delight that came with watching the sun go down. The longer Clover looked, the less he wanted to look away. Why would he? The same colors from the sunset could be found in Qrow’s eyes, after all, and Clover got the added bonus of being able to trace the sharp arc of Qrow’s jawline, the faint rosy glow of his cheeks, the soft curve of his lips…

Then, finally, Qrow seemed to notice Clover’s staring, and he turned to meet the other man’s awestruck gaze. Distantly, Clover thought that maybe he should have enough shame to look away after being caught. But he still couldn’t bring himself to care enough to act on the thought, especially when Qrow chose to fully _smile_ at him, soft and true, like he was pleased rather than bothered to find that Clover had been gazing at him like… like the lovestruck fool he was.

“Something wrong?” asked Qrow, quirking a curious eyebrow.

“I…” Clover swallowed, searching for the words. His face burned. “I just realized your eyes are the same color as the sunset.”

Evidently, Qrow wasn’t prepared for that answer, as the amusement evaporated from his face in an instant. For a long moment, they both just stared at each other, Qrow’s lips parting slightly in a silent, flustered “ _oh_.”

Qrow still managed to recover first, averting his gaze and reaching up to rub the back of his head. He glanced up again, briefly, and with a chuckle wrapped in a bashful smile, he replied, “Uh, so are your cheeks.”

Clover’s eyes widened. He, too, glanced away, and pressed a hand over his mouth self-consciously, fingers stretching across as much of his lower face as he could cover.

Qrow gave another huff of laughter in response. “Don’t worry,” he said. “It’s a good look on you.”

“Ugh, _stop_ ,” Clover complained, jamming his eyes shut and rubbing his hand over his entire face. “You’re making it worse.”

When he dropped his hand again, he opened his eyes to find that this time, Qrow was the one staring at him. He still wore that same small smile, and his cheeks were brushed with a not-so-faint blush of his own. Clover blinked, wondering if the way his heart proceeded to perform a giddy leap in his chest was the same feeling Qrow had had when he’d caught Clover looking just moments before.

Neither said a word. Instead, they lapsed into a serene, content silence, each simply enjoying taking in the finer details of the other’s face, and both bathed in a warm orange glow from the long-forgotten sunset in front of them.

Almost without thinking, Clover reached towards Qrow, brushing a few stray strands of black hair out of his face. The sudden contact made Qrow freeze, not for the first time that night, his gaze flicking from Clover’s eyes to his hand and back again.

And then, down to Clover’s lips.

Clover, his hand still hovering next to Qrow’s face, took the glance as a sign to lightly cup Qrow’s cheek and draw him in closer. He became hyperaware of his rapid heartbeat as the inches between them vanished, one by one, the mere proximity proving to be intoxicating.

The moment he could feel Qrow’s breath against his lips, though, the other man jolted slightly and pulled back, gaze dropping to the ground. Clover, still dizzy from the closeness, retracted his hand in an instant.

“I—Sorry,” he said, taking half a step away from Qrow and rubbing the side of his neck. “I didn’t mean—I’m sorry.”

“No,” Qrow cut in quickly. “No, it’s not you. I just…” He gave a small, sheepish chuckle. “I… I haven’t done this kind of thing in a while. Caught me off-guard.”

Clover’s face burned. “…Right. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.” Qrow hesitated for a moment, then reached out and took Clover’s hand in his own. “Tonight’s been great. Promise.” His eyes softened. “Best I’ve had in a while. I’d, uh…” He gave Clover’s hand a gentle squeeze. “I’d like to do it again sometime, if you—if you just don’t mind taking things a little slow.”

The prospect of a second date sent an excited thrill running through Clover. He offered Qrow a small, reassuring smile. “I don’t mind at all,” he said. “We can go as slow as you want, no worries. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

Qrow returned his smile, shy but genuine, and the pair turned their attention back to the Atlesian sunset, staying there and talking softly even long after the sun had vanished below the horizon and the sky had given way to the navy hues of night.


End file.
